


By Candelight

by warqueenfuriosa



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Celebrations, Christmas Fluff, Comfort, Gen, Happy, Holidays, Snow, Team Prison - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-02-28 14:24:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2735894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warqueenfuriosa/pseuds/warqueenfuriosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beth has always looked forward to the holidays but living under the constant threat of walkers, sleeping with one eye open and a weapon under the pillow doesn't exactly provide the right mood for the usual festivities. Instead, she's got to do a little improvisation. It's not much and she's not even sure if people will go along with what she has planned but she has to at least give it a shot.</p><p>**Set in the Prison. Bethyl if you squint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Candelight

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by: “Whole worlds’ darkness is not enough to dark the blaze of a candle." ― Sarvesh Jain
> 
> Written for The Walking Dead Holiday Fic exchange by PrintDust.

 

                Winter had set in at the prison in all its frigid glory, one of the coldest winters that Atlanta had seen in a good long while, setting delicate swirls of pale frost to bloom across the metal bars on the cell doors and windows. Some of the children, Mika leading the way, had pulled the mattresses out of their bunks and piled them up in the main hallway of Cell Block B. They burrowed under their blankets and giggled. Despite numb fingers, cold toes and runny noses, the sound of children’s laughter filled the prison to its deepest, darkest corners and teased out rare smiles among those who never thought there would be a reason to smile again in what little was left of this broken, bloodied world.

            As the sun set and the shadows grew, creeping throughout the prison, the characteristic rumble of the generator as it came to life remained silent. Beth had requested it, just for tonight. She had come to Rick earlier in the day while he was checking the fences with Carl and Daryl.

“Do you mind if I ask you somethin’?” she asked, eyes wide with that tenacious hope she somehow managed to maintain despite the horrors she’d lived through.

“Of course,” Rick replied. He waved to Carl and Daryl to continue without him, then turned to give Beth his full attention.

“I was hopin’,” she started, fiddling with the hem of her coat. “I was hopin’ you could keep the generator off for tonight. Just for a few hours at least.”

“Mind telling me what for? You got somethin’ up your sleeve?” he asked with a soft teasing smile.

Beth grinned back. “It’s a surprise. I promise it’s a good thing.”

Rick chuckled and shook his head. “Alright, I believe you. That can easily be arranged I think. I suppose you won’t be lettin’ me in on this little surprise then?”

“Not unless I have to,” she said, biting her lip.

“No, you don’t have to but I’d certainly appreciate it if…”

Without waiting for him to finish, Beth rose on tiptoe, kissed his cheek and then took off back towards the prison.

“Thank you!” she called with a wave over her shoulder.

“What was that all about?” Daryl grunted.

“I have no idea,” Rick replied, smiling to himself. “But we’ll find out soon enough.”

Beth had been planning tonight for a long, long while, saving up precious candle stubs for months on end. Now the time had finally come and she could barely contain her excitement. She had always loved the holidays at home, particularly the lights, how they chased away the gloomy haze of the winter months in explosions of color. Hershel would laugh when she bounced around the house hanging up decorations and lights, like a bumblebee zipping from flower to flower. But now, they had no way to track the days; no way to tell if the holidays had already come and gone so it was time to do a little improvising.

Beth started lighting candles, spreading them throughout the prison, their soft, warm, comforting glow blossoming through the grim interior. About this time every night, most of the group would have wandered off to bed, exhausted from their daily work, from the constant stress of walkers pressed against the fences. Tonight, however, people noticed as Beth tucked candle stubs into dark corners, along the windowsills, next to cell doors, humming as she went, and instead of retreating to their cells like they did every other night, they lingered. It was as if the flickering, sputtering flames of the candles that barely staved off the darkness proved as a subtle yet unnerving reminder of how easily their own lives could be extinguished in nothing more than a whisper of smoke and ash, blown away on the first breath of wind. So they drifted, as if drawn to each other again by a deep, primal instinct to sate the need for reassurance and seek out the soothing presence of other living, breathing humans.

            One by one, people wandered into Cell Block B where the children were, where Michonne and Beth played with little Judith who was swathed in about four layers as she batted her bright red plastic cups around. Rick sat next to Carl with their backs pressed against the wall, talking about who would take the next watch on the fences, about planting the next crop in the spring. Daryl hung back and perched on the walkway above it all, watching, the arrows he was supposed to be sharpening lying forgotten next to him. Until Beth noticed him. When she tried to wave him down he shook his head but Beth wasn’t taking no for an answer. She darted up the stairs and tugged on his hand.

            “Please come join us,” she pleaded.

            “Too many people down there,” he grumbled.

            “Then sit on the stairs with Daddy,” she said. “Pretty please?”

            “Alright, fine,” he relented, shuffling after her. He settled on the top step just to be difficult and win part of the argument, keeping as much distance between himself and the growing crowd downstairs. It didn’t seem to bother Beth in the slightest as she gave him a small, shy smile and returned to playing with Judith.

            Rick noticed the gradual trickle of people as they came in. Every single one of the prison’s inhabitants had spilled into Cell Block B and filled the place with a cozy humming buzz of chatter, or were simply sitting, enjoying the ease of company and the rare, precious moment of peace. For all the time they had been at the prison with the occasional spat as personalities clashed, there had never been a night like this one where everyone was together for companionship instead of the need for survival. Seeing as they were stuck in the same boat, clawing their way through mud, blood and the undead just to make it through the day with what meager lives they led, they learned quickly how to work together well enough. As human beings with fears, insecurities, dreams…they were practically strangers to each other. The fight to survive may have brought them together but they still didn’t truly know one another, until tonight anyway.

            Judith lost interest in her cups and twisted around until she could see Rick sitting only a few feet away. She stretched towards him, reaching her little chubby arms out and whimpered. Beth picked her up, bouncing her lightly, and delivered her into Rick’s waiting arms. Judith’s round little cheeks split into a toothless grin and she grabbed a fistful of his beard with a giggle.

“Looks like she’s got an iron grip there,” Carl pointed out in amusement.

            “That would be her mother’s influence,” Rick said as he tried to gently pry her fingers away. He wrapped her tiny hand in his and glanced up at Beth.

            “So this was your plan all along?” he asked, tipping his head towards the room.

            She crouched on her heels and adjusted Judith’s purple beanie to cover her ears, growing red with the cold. “It reminds me a little of what we used to do at home durin’ the holidays. Even after Mama died and we didn’t feel like celebratin’ much of anything, we did somethin’ for Christmas, at least. Like we were remindin’ ourselves that no matter how bad things got…” she shrugged. “We always had each other.”

            Rick brushed Judith’s soft cheek with one finger. It seemed impossibly grim most of the time, this world they struggled to survive in on a daily basis. But as he looked into Judith’s big blue eyes, wide and innocent and still full of wonder, as he looked at Carl, mature beyond his years already and all too eager to rush headlong into trouble with no regard for his own safety if it meant helping someone in need…he knew Beth was right. He’d lost himself for a while when Lori died, and he caught himself revisiting his precarious balance right on the lip of that bottomless abyss sometimes. It wouldn’t take much, to tip over the edge and never come back. Except for Carl and Judith. He missed Lori like crazy and part of him knew that would never change but as he sat on the cold prison floor, surrounded by the dim, comforting glow of the candles with Carl next to him and Judith on his lap, he thought that maybe, despite the nightmares he had witnessed, despite the horrors he had committed that haunted him in the unforgiving, brutally honest hours of the night, there might still be a tiny bit of hope left to salvage from the wreckage and hold close.

            Rick pressed a kiss to Judith’s forehead and wrapped an arm around Carl’s shoulders. He met Beth’s gaze again with a grateful nod.

            “I never would have realized how much we needed this. Thank you.”

            Beth blushed slightly, pleased that her plan had worked. Maggie called softly to her from the stairs where she sat with Glenn and Hershel and motioned Beth over.

            “We’re ready,” Maggie said.

            Rick’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve got more up your sleeve?”

            Beth grinned again and instead of replying, she joined Maggie at the stairs, snuggling in close to Hershel. After a brief whispered discussion with Maggie, Beth took a deep breath and opened her mouth to sing. The buzz of chatter instantly fell silent as people listened to Beth’s voice ringing out clear and pure and sweet. When Maggie joined in with Glenn and Hershel providing a deeper accompaniment, the effect was eerily beautiful and liberating as the song grew and grew, breaking free of the suffocating need to stay quiet at all times, just this once.

“Hark how the bells  
Sweet silver bells  
All seem to say,  
"Throw cares away."  
Christmas is here  
Bringing good cheer  
To young and old  
Meek and the bold  
  
Ding, dong, ding, dong  
That is their song  
With joyful ring  
All caroling  
One seems to hear  
Words of good cheer  
From ev'rywhere  
Filling the air  
  
Oh how they pound,  
Raising the sound,  
O'er hill and dale,  
Telling their tale,  
Gaily they ring  
While people sing  
Songs of good cheer  
Christmas is here  
Merry, merry, merry, merry Christmas  
Merry, merry, merry, merry Christmas.”

 

            When the song was over, no one spoke for the longest time as they remembered the loved ones lost, thinking about how far they had come, how different everything was since the last holiday season they had. For a brief moment, as the last of the notes took wing and faded into silence, things almost seemed…normal. Almost.

            For little Judith, the seriousness of the moment was too much and she started to squirm with impatience. She patted Rick’s cheek and when he turned and kissed her tiny fist in response, she squealed with laughter.

            “Dada!”

            The word, so small and innocent, hung in the air, bittersweet in its simplicity. Rick’s breath caught in his throat and he couldn’t help but wish, more than anything, that Lori was there with them.

            “Was that her first word?” Carl asked as Judith wrapped her fist around one of his fingers.

            Rick nodded, suddenly finding it hard to speak around the tightness in his throat. Carl cast a sidelong glance at Rick when he didn’t reply and caught the warring emotions in his father’s face.

“I wish she was here too,” he whispered.

Rick squeezed his eyes closed and pulled Carl even closer. Judith released her grip on Carl’s finger and curled up on Rick’s chest, her forehead resting against his neck. He rubbed her back in a steady rhythm until her breathing softened and he knew she was asleep, for a while anyway.

            One by one, just as they had come in, people began to wander back to their respective cells. They scrambled to cling to the slim threads of happy memories that had resurfaced with Beth’s song, the happy memories that seemed to fall apart more and more with every passing day until there were only bits and pieces left.

            Beth stayed in Cell Block B until everyone else had gone. She snuffed out each candle slowly, as if by taking her time she could make the serenity of the moment last just a little while longer and hold off the harsh, unforgiving reality of the outside world. When she passed the window, she froze then curled her mittened hands around the cold iron bars and pulled herself up on her tiptoes to get a better look. Delicate wisps of snow drifted through the air as if in slow motion with no stirring shift of the wind. Beth’s breath began to fog up the glass and she rubbed it away with her hand. She watched, entranced, until her legs started to burn from the strain of standing on her tiptoes but still she didn’t want to look away. She hadn’t seen snow since she was little, even though she hoped and prayed for it every year. If she looked past the fences, past the shuffling walkers scattered around outside, if she just watched how the snow fell in the trees, how it seemed to whisper as it graced the ground...she could imagine that she was home, in her bedroom above the kitchen at midnight, wrapped up in her comforter as she sat at the window overlooking the fields on Christmas Eve, too excited to sleep…

            Hershel watched Beth from the doorway of his cell. As she struggled to stay balanced on the very tips of her toes to peer out the window, he could still see the little girl she used to be, six years old, her hands pressed to the window and fogging up the glass with excited little gusts of breath as she witnessed her first snowfall. His chest ached with the memory. She was nearly a grown woman now and yet she was still so small in this big, cruel world. No matter how much time had passed, no matter how much the world would change her, toughen her up until she felt nothing, break her heart time after time until there wasn’t anything to piece back together again…to him, she would always be that little girl, lost in a cloud of wonder as she watched the snow fall.


End file.
